Saturday, October 10, 2009

[USS Charon] SD240910.10 || Duty Log || CHO - Lt. Sakarra Tyrax

[USS Charon, Cargo Bay One]

After 38.7 minutes, there were some really interesting, if mildly offensive scents beginning to float through the vicinity. And still the Captain did not deign to make an appearance. Sakarra did not know whether she found this situation amusing or irritating, or a little of both. She decided to settle for stoicism instead and simply appreciated the one good thing that came from having this many people crowding a cargo bay filled to the roof with supplies - a most gratifying increase in ambient temperature.

Several of the Romulan crewmembers began to deliberately drift away from the Klingons; not entirely an unwelcome development, at least that would mean they would not entertain themselves with another fight. Unless of course they wanted to get a running start. The few other Vulcans present however remained in place, mirroring the helm officers stance of polite detachment. A brief exchange of glances and raised brows with the healer revealed that he, too, had a fine appreciation for the ironic humor of their predicament.

By the time Shiarrael t'Rehu finally stormed the cargo bay (one could hardly ever accuse the CO of not making an entrance when she wanted to), Sakarra had devised some new upgrades for navigation, reviewed crew files and come up with six new and interesting ways to improve the ship's ventilation system. Heavy focus on filtration of smells. Sixty-four point seven minutes.

The speech at least was brief enough and quite to the point, although in it's essence rather lost on the young Vulcan. If one was not willing to stand with one's own crew, the entire concept of space travel became rather pointless, no? Still, recent events would seem to warrant the CO pointing out some simple facts.

It was not until the Captain made her comment about having grown fond of her crew and the reference to their destination, that the young woman briefly tilted her head to one side. The CO's rather direct smile however could be described as the 'last straw' which made Sakarra's brow shoot up in an open display of astonishment. Acknowledging her orders, the dark eyed Vulcan gave a brief incline of her head and then pivoted around to make her way to the bridge. It would certainly be gratifying to sit in the helmsman's chair again.

[Mountain Range outside Nysinrin, Lyrilla]

Vroa adjusted the range of his telescope with a quick twist until he saw the alien ship so clearly he could discern the black markings on her silver hull. The alien inscriptions did not make any sense to him, but he knew at least part of them spelled out the name the strangers had given their vessel.

Charon.

How odd it sounded, not really like any proper name or even a thing. But the way the aliens said it suggested it meant something to them and that was what counted. And in a way, it would always mean something to Vroa and his people, too.There were lights blinking, deep glowing red and green, and steady, bright lights illuminating the name and strange letters, as if the ship wanted to announce not only her presence but her identity to anyone who might look her way.Here I am. This is me.

Vroa thought it was only fitting that people like the one's inhabiting this star-faring jewel should adorn her like this. After all, they had come to Lyrilla very much the same way: hello strangers! Here we are! Would you like to be friends?And then they had risked everything, including their very lives, to save people they had just met.If they weren't so nonchalant and outright enthusiastic about it all, one might go and call them naïve. Stupid, even. Chuckling, Vroa tilted the telescope to get a wider angle so that he might see the star filled darkness that was this ship's proper home. Whatever compelled these people to do what they did, he was grateful they existed. And he knew that one day his own people might launch their own vessels into this vast darkness out there, if only to visit their new friends in their homes. So many worlds

Like a shiny little toy the alien ship hung up there, and before Vroa's eyes it slowly began to move, turning away from the planet while other lights appeared at the back end of it's disc, glowing red and brighter than any of the others. At the same time, the downward facing wings of this delicate looking silver toy began to glow as well, all azure and crimson, as it accelerated away from Lyrilla and the star which the aliens had given another of their funny names. Vroa was about to whisper a goodbye, when suddenly the gleaming shape before his watching eyes did something so funny and, at least to him, heartwarming, it made him laugh out loud. Like the crazy feline Ensign had done with one of the small ships that had carried Vroa and his family to safety after their home had been destroyed, the Charon performed a joyous victory-roll. And then, in a flash of light, she was gone.